


True Romance Is Dead (Because I Shot It With The Blue Shell And Now My Boyfriend Is Pissed)

by kxllington



Series: Pete And Patrick Do Mundane Couple-y Shit [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Mario Kart, based on a tumblr prompt, fluff (but with a twist), like a lot of swearing, only rated T bc of swearing, rip Pete, too much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kxllington/pseuds/kxllington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally, Pete thought giving Patrick a Wii U for his birthday was a good idea.</p><p>Now, maybe not.</p><p>Because what had started out as a lighthearted race in Yoshi Falls around nine-ish had suddenly turned into a death match on Rainbow Road at near midnight.</p><p>And they say that true romance is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Romance Is Dead (Because I Shot It With The Blue Shell And Now My Boyfriend Is Pissed)

**Author's Note:**

> it's 1:30 in the morning.
> 
> i'm currently recovering from being hit by a car (and i sincerely wish i was joking but i'm actually not, i didn't get badly hurt, i'm just extremely sore in my neck and right shoulder)
> 
> this is based off a tumblr prompt that my dashboard lost to the sands of time but it was along the lines of "person a and person b are mad at each other so a makes b sleep on the couch but neither of them can sleep without the other one so they end up angrily cuddling on the couch" and that just screamed peterick at me
> 
> enjoy (i'm high on painkillers)

Originally, Pete thought getting Patrick a Wii U for his birthday was a good idea. They'd be able to relax, play together and unwind after a busy day with some video games. The console came with Mario Kart, and it seemed like a nice way to have fun together and playfully jab at each other during races. A good, fun time for them as a couple.

Now, maybe not.

Because what had started out as a lighthearted race in Yoshi Falls around nine-ish was suddenly a death match on Rainbow Road at near midnight. Pete was honestly surprised they hadn't woken up the neighbours with their screaming and cursing at each other.

And they say that true romance is dead.

"DID YOU JUST FUCKING BANANA PEEL ME?" Patrick screeched, nearly launching his controller across the living room. Pete's brow furrowed as he leant forwards, now in the lead of the race.

"What does it fucking look like?" Pete spat back, not tearing his eyes from the screen. Patrick leant forwards beside him, mashing the buttons unnecessarily with rage. Despite it only being a video game, the singer was absolutely livid, ready to murder the man beside him at the drop of a hat. On the bassist's end, things were going swell...until he got the banana peel right back, nearly falling off the track.

"I'M SORRY, _MARIO_ , WHO GAVE YOU THE FUCKING RIGHT—" Pete began furiously, anger sparking in his eyes.

"What, you can dish it but you can't take it, dickwad?" Patrick taunted in reply, taking the first place once again with a cocky smirk. "It's my fucking _birthday_ and you've already beaten me at seven different races! With fucking _Waluigi_ of all characters, you piece of shit meme! If you beat me at this, I swear to god, you're sleeping on the fucking couch!" Pete scoffed, narrowing his eyes, at the TV screen again.

"Oh, you're _so_ on, you asshole!" The bassist jammed his thumb to accelerate, forcing Waluigi onto Mario's tail. Patrick gasped, pushing his character further ahead. It was to no avail though, because just as they approached the final finish line, Pete released his secret weapon:

_The blue shell._

Patrick was sent hurtling back, and he could only watch with horror and rage as Pete gracefully crossed the finish line, whooping in victory.

"FUCK YEAH!" The bassist yelled, standing up and raising his arms above his head. Patrick came in eighth, and he was positively steaming from the ears as he watched Waluigi do his victory dance. With his fists clenched, the singer rose from the couch, stalking out of the living room. Moments later he came back with a blanket, one of Pete's pillows, and a deep frown. Pete's smile fell.

"Wait, you were _serious_?" Pete asked incredulously. Patrick just huffed, dumping the bedding on the couch behind the bassist.

"You blue shelled me, you asshole, I was about to have my one little win. Couldn't even let me have one race _on my fucking birthday_." The singer muttered, turning towards the TV to shut it off.

"It's a _game_! That doesn't exactly warrant me sleeping on the couch, you dick—" Pete began, irritated, but he was cut off by Patrick's hand flying up, silencing him.

"It's late. I'll see you in the morning." The singer all but growled, storming out of the living room and down the hall. Left alone in the dark room, Pete huffed angrily, sinking down onto the sofa with a scowl. Shoving the pillow in behind his head and laying down across the cushions, Pete's frown deepened. _Stupid Mario Kart, stupid Patrick, stupid stupid stupid_ , the bassist thought bitterly as he pulled the blanket up over himself, staring hard up at the ceiling.

Pete didn't know how long he'd laid there after hearing Patrick's heavy footfalls trudging up the stairs to their bedroom, eyes wide open and anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It felt like hours, if he was honest with himself, and he'd actually tried to sleep a few times, but it wouldn't come. He'd become so accustomed to having another warm body snuggled against his over the years that he honestly couldn't sleep without Patrick beside him. Throwing an arm over his eyes, the bassist let out a prolonged groan into the silence. He wasn't going to be getting any shut-eye tonight, try as he might.

Not even five minutes after Pete had given up, feet were padding back down the stairs in a huff. Patrick emerged from around the corner, defeat and annoyance evident on his face, even in the dim light of the moon.

" _You fucking asshole_." Patrick grumbled, standing over the bassist. Grumpily, Pete lifted the blanket, shuffling back to give the singer what little space he could on the couch. He slipped in beside Pete, tucking in so their bodies were flush together and fisting his hands in the bassist's tank top. "Stupid fucking body heat, I'm so used to it I can't sleep."

"I feel the same way, now shut up." Pete replied, voice still tinged with resentment. Shoving his face into the dip between Pete's neck and shoulder, Patrick groaned, throwing an arm across the bassist's waist.

"'M still f'k'n mad 't you." The singer muttered hotly against Pete's collarbone. Pete only grunted in response, turning his head to press a harsh kiss to Patrick's cheek.

The two laid there for a while, cuddled up and enraged with each other in a way only they could make seem functional. Surprisingly, sleep soon began to tug at their minds, and despite their anger, Pete and Patrick began drifting off. Pete's eyes finally slipped closed, and just as he felt himself dozing off Patrick shifted against him, catching his attention.

"T'morrow, I wanna goddamn rematch, you motherfucker." Patrick whispered.

"You're on, now shut up and sleep." Pete grumbled, pressing his face into the singer's hair. Another beat passed, and Patrick squeezed his arm around Pete's waist a little tighter.

"I love you, dumbass." He whispered, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Love you, too, dick." Pete murmured, finally letting himself be pulled under.


End file.
